Hey y'all -
We had a near-perfect day yesterday.
It was mostly sunny and 73 degrees.
We went to the farmer's market with Grandma Sue. Laney rode the carousel. We had ice cream at 10am. We went to the playground.
It started to drizzle, so Hagen and I stepped under a pop-up tent where a high school girl was playing her violin for tips. I danced him around while she played and the rain hit the roof of the tent and it was a magical little moment. They say that sometimes you don't realize how happy you were until later, when you look back on a particular memory and think, "That was a very happy time." But trust me, while we were dancing: I knew.
Dad took the dogs to the dog park. They didn't hassle anyone, and weren't asked to leave. Coincidentally: They were the only dogs there.
Grandma Sue has plans for us to all go camping later this summer, so she thought it would be fun for lunch if we found a spot by the river and took the tent and had a picnic and did a little "practice camping" to get Laney used to the idea. It was great fun.
Laney and I forded the river and pretended to look for pirate treasure, and I got to be referred to as "Me hearty."
You know how people use the term "happy place?" As in a theoretical place you can travel to in your imagination that calms you and helps you find serenity? Well, Hagen's isn't quite so imaginary. Hagen's happy place is kept in the front closet and is otherwise known as Dad's hiking backpack.
But in a day filled with highlights, this was my favorite:
I got distracted on the picnic blanket serving Laney her 4th helping of baked beans, and when I turned back to my own plate, I discovered my chicken was missing.
Mystery solved.
This is not at all staged. The child really crawled over to the plate and stole my chicken.
You can't fight a genetic disposition toward grease and salt. As Dad said to me, "Your relatives will be so proud."
I know I am.
Love,
Mom
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